


on inebriation as the easy pill to seduction

by wartransmission



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Drinking, Katsuki Yuuri-centric, M/M, Oblivious Heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-22 16:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wartransmission/pseuds/wartransmission
Summary: Yuuri has always known that his dad is a wild drunk, but it took him a while to realize just how much he took after him.[Or, the instances in which Yuuri unintentionally charmed some people while he was drunk, and intentionally charmed the one person who matters.]





	1. high school edition

"Hey, Katsuki-kun?”

Keisuke watches as Katsuki looks up at him, his brown eyes blinking and squinting a bit as though trying to read him. That, or maybe his glasses aren’t working all that well? He can’t really say- no one really knows what Katsuki is thinking even on an average day.

“Yes?” Katsuki asks, tentative as he continues to pack up his belongings.

Keisuke smiles, perhaps a tad awkwardly, but he hopes for the best when he says,

“Would you like to come to a mixer with us?”

Katsuki blinks up at him again, before furrowing his brows in confusion. “A mixer..?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding enthusiastically as he explains, “the girls are already an even four, but we’re missing one guy. We’re going to have dinner and karaoke, if you’d be interested?” He pauses, considering to himself if he should ask if Katsuki already has a girlfriend, before deciding against it when he notices the curious look on his face. Instead, he says, “Don’t worry about feeling out of place either; the only people who know each other in the group are me and Rika, and she’s the one bringing the other girls.”

Katsuki only gives him a second of a look and doesn’t even bother to say anything when he turns away, sweeping his pen back into his pencil case. Keisuke feels himself deflate at the lack of a response, and thinks, _maybe I should try selling it a little better?_

“Why me?”

Keisuke blinks. “Huh?”

“Why me?” Katsuki asks, looking oddly serious as he regards Keisuke with a raised brow.

Keisuke gulps. He’s always known that Katsuki is on a league miles above their own, which is unsurprising given his seriousness and accomplishments on a national level, but he didn’t think he’d get a taste of how it _feels_ to be faced by that truth. “We’re asking you because, well, we thought you might be free since it’s the off-season?” He shrugs, trying for a smile. “We’ve never seen you hanging out with anyone else, and we thought,” he hesitates, hoping he doesn’t come off as too nosy, “it might be a good idea to include you in our outing. I’m not saying that you’re lonely, but…”

“Oh,” Katsuki says.

Keisuke worries on his lower lip at the unenthusiastic response. “Oh..?”

Katsuki gives him an inscrutable look, before nodding his head. “Sure, I’ll come along.”

“Really?!” Keisuke exclaims, eyes bright as he clasps his hands over his chest.

“Unless the invitation was a joke..?” Katsuki says hesitantly, eyeing him with mild suspicion.

“No, no, definitely not! You’re a godsend for adding to our group, really,” he says, grin wide as he gives a little tug over his shoulder bag’s strap. “We’re actually heading out now; you can join me when we leave.”

“Isn’t it,” Katsuki begins, looking conflicted as he squints at him, before wrinkling his nose and giving up on whatever he was thinking of saying with a sigh. “Never mind.”

Keisuke smiles in amusement at him. “ _Ooookay_ then,” he hums. More enthusiastically, he adds, “It’ll be fun now that you’re joining us, I’m sure of it!”

Katsuki smiles wryly to himself, looking down at his feet as he swings his bag over his back. Keisuke’s heart _may_ or may not have skipped a beat in surprise at the soft look on his face, but he’s _never_ going to let anyone know that.

“I hope so,” Katsuki murmurs.

 

* * *

 

 

Growing up, Keisuke has never really doubted that he’s straight. It’s something that no one ever really questions, especially out loud, and since he found more of his attraction leaning towards girls anyway, he’s never really tried to argue against it.

But now?

Watching Katsuki Yuuri standing on the lone table of their private room, slowly unbuttoning his shirt with a slow, careful hand while his other hand is occupied with the microphone? Watching Katsuki Yuuri slowly rolling his hips while his lips come close enough to the mic that it’s almost like he’s kissing it, and singing so sweet and slow like he’s _this_ close to just dropping all of his clothes?

Forget the fact that the girls in the room are probably scandalized; _Keisuke_ is having a sexuality _crisis_.

There are almost a dozen bottles set aside on the floor to give Katsuki room to move as he turns slowly, as if trying to make sure that everyone receives an equal amount of the show he’s providing as he grinds to the beat of whatever song it is he’s singing. Keisuke can’t even process any of the words, can’t even begin to think if it’s English or Japanese or something else just from how _distracted_ he is by how- how-

How _attractive_ Katsuki looks, even while drunk off his ass (he’s assuming here, given the odd flush on his cheeks and the number of bottles he’s finished). He wouldn’t even look all that drunk if not for the bright light of the TV exposing his flushed face and the sway of his hips; his singing is still audible and he’s not falling onto the floor in a sleepy heap like one other guy has from his second bottle of beer.

“Katsuki-kun,” Rika says, the amusement clear in her eyes as Katsuki finishes his second (third? He’s not sure anymore, really) song and somewhat carelessly sets the mic down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great!” Katsuki slurs, hopping down from the table and flopping onto the space between the two friends that Rika brought with her. Nozomi flushes at Katsuki’s proximity but doesn’t complain, only staring wide-eyed as he smiles charmingly at her. Keisuke is _definitely_ charmed, and Katsuki isn’t even _looking_ at him.

“Hi,” Katsuki says, voice soft and 70% purr.

“H-hi!” Nozomi squeaks, wide-eyed and red-faced as Katsuki tilts his head and squints at her. Concerned and perhaps a little embarrassed, she asks, “Are you really alright, Katsuki-kun? You drank a lot.”

He waves a hand as if to dismiss her concerns. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” he chirps, eyes half-lidded as he leans back into the couch while raising an arm to push his hair back. Nozomi sucks in a breath at the look of him and so does Keisuke, because _wow_.

“You’re very pretty,” Katsuki says honestly. Nozomi gawps at him and so does Rika, Keisuke, and _everyone else (_ who’s awake) in the group. There wasn’t even a lead up to his line; he just _drops_ the compliment with no warning whatsoever.

To think, everyone believed Katsuki to be this stand-offish guy who didn’t like anyone. Who could have even known that he could be so charming? Especially when _drunk_?

“I-I, um, thank you!” Nozomi stutters, smile wobbly and shy as she looks up at him. “You’re very handsome too, Katsuki-kun.”

Katsuki laughs and, by all accounts, it shouldn’t be charming at all with how ridiculously drunk he sounds. And yet, all it does is enthrall him (and Rika, going by the dazed look on her face) with how _cute_ the sound is coming from his grinning mouth.

Then, incomprehensibly, he says, “Viktor is even prettier, though. Handsome, too!”

Nozomi blinks in surprise at the non sequitur. “ _Viktoru_?” she asks, hesitantly.

“Viktor Nikiforov!” Katsuki yells, effectively waking the dozing teenager to Keisuke’s right. “The most beautiful skater _ever_. He’s just- so full of surprises, and he’s always so graceful on the ice!”

Keisuke has absolutely no idea where this conversation is going. Based on the baffled look on Nozomi’s face, it looks like she has no idea either. Nakamura (another friend that Rika had brought along), on the other hand, doesn’t seem like she cares in particular as she leans into Yuuri’s side and says, “ _I_ think you’re more attractive than whoever that guy is, Katsuki-kun.”

Katsuki actually gives her an offended look, eyes wide and betrayed as he turns to stare at her. “Well, you’re wrong,” he says, not looking at all like he’s going to change his mind. “Or- or your eyes are bad!”

Nakamura laughs. “I’m not the one wearing glasses, Katsuki-kun,” she says, looking to be just as stubborn as she gives him a flirty smile. “Though, you certainly make them work. I didn’t even like glasses before.”

“Mami-chan!” Rika scolds, though she’s laughing as she says it.

“What? I’m just being honest,” Nakamura says with a shrug. Then she looks to Katsuki, fluttering her eyelashes in a way that, surprisingly, _doesn’t_ look ridiculous. She says, “Want to take this little debate elsewhere? My parents aren’t home, so.”

Nozomi sputters at the implication in her words. “Mami-chan! He’s _drunk_!”

Nakamura scoffs at Nozomi’s scolding, waving a hand dismissively before she leans right back onto Katsuki, who stares intently at her. She says, smile wide and sly, “I’m sure we can figure out how to settle this elsewhere, Katsuki-kun. I can be _very_ persuasive.”

He wrinkles his nose at her, and Keisuke is awed. Not just because he looks cute, for a guy, but because he actually doesn’t even look like he’s _considering_ Nakamura. She’s beautiful in the conventional way- she seems to be the type of girl that anyone would like, and yet, Katsuki looks like he actually wants to have his verbal fight with her instead of responding with flirting words.

“Well, _I_ don’t need to persuade you,” he says righteously, before clumsily bringing out his phone from his pocket. He takes a moment to flip it open, clicking away to find what he’s looking for, before he finally mutters a loud “ah!” of satisfaction and shoves his phone in Nakamura’s face. “ _Here_ , watch!”

Nakamura is silent for a moment, squinting down at the screen featuring whatever it is that Katsuki is showing her, before she gives a short nod with pursed lips and a raised brow. “I guess he’s a little attractive,” she admits, to which Katsuki grins widely. Then she adds, “I’m not really into older men, though. The grey hair isn’t doing it for me.”

“It’s _silver_ ,” he says in a gasp, looking strangely slighted at the mild comment as he pulls his phone back to his chest. “And he’s not that old! He’s only four years older! It’s not just his face, ‘nyway- he’s beautiful all-over! Did you even see his _skating_?”

“You like that guy that much, Katsuki-kun?” Minori pipes up from Keisuke’s side, surprisingly awake for all that he was dozing off earlier on.

Yuuri squints at him, nose wrinkling and lips pursed in what looks to be judgment. Then he says, tone hinting at annoyance, “S’there anythin’ wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all,” Yusuke says from his left, smile amused as he leans forward and reaches over to nudge Minori in the shoulder. “ _Minori_ here is just a weak drunk who’s jealous of you.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous about,” Katsuki says, looking confused as he cocks his head to one side. Rika actually covers her mouth at the gesture, probably to hide the “aww” wanting to escape from her mouth, and Keisuke feels for her. He really, really does.

Then Katsuki starts to look worryingly pale, one hand darting up to cover his mouth, and Keisuke already knows what’s going to happen.

This is _exactly why_ he doesn’t drink.

“C’mon, Katsuki-kun, up,” he says, stepping over the table between them as he sets a gentle hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki follows his command, stumbling as he does so, and groans a complaint as he clamps his hand harder down on his mouth. Trying to sound comforting, he says, “I know, you feel sick- I’ll be taking you to the bathroom to help you out, okay?”

“I can help,” Nakamura offers. Keisuke raises an eyebrow at her, quietly trying to communicate the disbelieving _really?_ in his head, and it seems to go well enough going by her wide-eyed look and the deep-set frown on her lips. “The guy is feeling sick; I’m not gonna take advantage of him when he’s like _that_.”

“As opposed to taking advantage of him when he’s only drunk?” Rika says dryly, her eyebrow also raised in question when Nakamura turns to look at her. “I’d feel more comfortable letting Kaori-chan help him out, to be honest.”

“Are you both seriously ganging up on me? I thought we were friends!” Nakamura says grumpily, nose wrinkling in distaste as she crosses her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing wrong with me trying to flirt! You’re all too conservative!”

“It’s not so much conservativeness as it is a matter of consent, Nakamura-san,” Yusuke says, smiling sunnily up at Nakamura when she shoots him a betrayed look. “ _We_ wouldn’t want to try anything with you when you’re drunk; it should be the same for Katsuki-kun.”

“Fine, whatever,” Nakamura scoffs, waving a hand out in dismissal of their words. “Let Kaori-chan help since you all like her so much.”

“Mami-chan,” Nozomi says, looking disappointed as she stands up from her seat. “We’re not trying to single you out. We’re just saying that it’s not right to try and do anything with Katsuki-kun when he’s barely even aware of what he’s doing.”

“Kaori-chan, not you too!” Nakamura whines childishly.

“ _Mami-chan_ ,” Nozomi repeats, pouting in a way that, surprisingly, gets her point across well enough that Nakamura settles down with a heavy sigh.

“ _Fine_ , I get your point. I’ll do better next time,” Nakamura says, though she doesn’t look all that happy to say it.

Nozomi smiles brightly up at her, and Nakamura rolls her eyes but gives her a little shove that looks to be more affectionate than anything else. “Thank you, Mami-chan,” Nozomi says, giving her a pat back on the arm, before following after Keisuke with a bottle of water she’d swiftly picked up from beside their lone table.

“S’goin’ on?” Katsuki murmurs while leaning into his arm, brown eyes blinking blearily up at him as he leads them outside of the private room and down the hall. “Murata-kun?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Keisuke says softly, giving a slight rub to Katsuki’s upper arm as he keeps his own arm wrapped around his shoulders. “We were just telling Nakamura-san something important.”

“That Viktor is better?” Katsuki asks, squinting a bit as he blinks at him.

Keisuke tries his hardest not to laugh, but Nozomi seems to be failing in that aspect when she barely stifles a giggle behind her free hand. He says, “Something like that, yeah.”

Katsuki smiles winsomely at him, and Keisuke has to confess to the deeper parts of his mind that, maybe, he feels a little bit taken in by the sweet look on his face.

“Good,” Katsuki says.

“Good,” Keisuke parrots, smiling helplessly and over at Nozomi, who looks to be feeling the same when she sends him a soft, understanding smile right back.

It’s going to be a _long_ night of trying to get Katsuki home, but.

He supposes it has its perks, if he can get to see his usually aloof classmate so sweet and warm and _honest_ for once.

 

* * *

 

“Murata-kun?”

Yuuri fidgets when Murata looks back at him, and fidgets even more when a strangely bright smile meets him when he raises his eyes to look at Murata’s face. “Yes?” Murata asks, smile a little too soft from what Yuuri is used to as he securely tucks his bag over his shoulder.

“Last Friday,” he begins, worrying on his lip as he looks away from Murata’s face, “I’m really sorry for all of the trouble.” He bows his head, feeling the flush of embarrassment rise onto his cheeks when Murata doesn’t speak at all. “I heard from my parents that you took me home, and that I was drunk; I should have known not to drink that much. I’m really sorry that I had to make you go through all that trouble.”

He straightens back up and sees a bit of Murata’s smile falter, but it’s so quick a change that Yuuri figures it was just a play of the light when the smile swiftly settles back on his lips. “It was no trouble at all, really,” Murata assures him, waving a hand to try and ease his worries as they start to walk together for their shared morning class. “We were glad that you could make the time to come with us at all.”

“Did I…”

Murata raises an eyebrow at him. “Did you?”

He clears his throat. “Did I do anything bad, or embarrassing..?”

Murata laughs; he he feels the anxiety forming at the back of his throat at the reminder of how much he doesn’t _remember anything_ while Murata probably _does_. Why is Murata _laughing?_ Was he that bad? Did he do anything _humiliating_ that they could hold over his head forever?

He should have figured it would be a bad idea to go along with his curiosity and impulses. He wasn’t even particularly interested in finding an actual date there as much as he was just intrigued at the idea of what mixers were like; he figured, since Murata had already asked and it wouldn’t be likely that he’d get asked again, he’d give it a shot even if it was just this once.

(He could also say that, at the least, he still managed to _try_ at getting along with his peers for all that Nishigori thinks he can’t.)

“Don’t look so scared, Katsuki-kun,” Murata teases, smiling still as he gives him a pat on the shoulder. Yuuri has _no idea_ why Murata would think they were friendly enough that he could do that, which does not bode well for him and his drunken behavior if it managed to change how Murata usually treats him. “You just sang and danced a little bit. It was barely even dancing when you were just swaying to the music,” Murata explains, smile amused as he regards him with his head cocked just a little bit to the outside right of him. “Anyway, we all had fun. That was the important thing.”

Yuuri regards him with squinted eyes. “Really?”

Murata smiles widely at him. “Really, Katsuki-kun. We all had fun, and you were a proper gentleman.”

“Oh,” Yuuri hums. “That’s good.”

“Got yourself a couple of admirers in one night, though, so I’ll applaud you for that,” Murata mentions, so casually that Yuuri almost doesn’t catch it.

Did he even _hear_ right?

“What?”

Murata blinks at him. “What?”

“You said something,” Yuuri begins, biting on his lower lip for a moment when Murata doesn’t immediately reply. “…never mind, I probably just misheard.”

Murata smiles, amusement mixed with confusion playing in his eyes, and Yuuri sighs his resignation to the suspicion nagging at the back of his mind of the things he doesn’t remember doing while they were out for karaoke.

Murata doesn’t complain about anything; Yuuri can only hope that he _really_ didn’t do anything improper that would be a cause for concern.


	2. college edition

Yuuri has never been one to enjoy socializing in particular, and he’s always preferred studying solo over group studies. It’s just…easier, not having to pull the weight of anyone else as he focuses on himself.

That being said, it doesn’t mean that he can’t work well with others. If there’s anything he can be grateful of himself for, at least, it’s his competitiveness; his desire not to fail is far stronger than his desire to be far away from nosy people. Studying on a scholarship while being an internationally-competing athlete is an additional source of pressure for him too, which _definitely_ ensures that he does his best at the minimum.

Honestly, he’s just _relieved_ that all he’s gotten so far have been cooperative team members. If he had to endure more working relationships similar to those that he’s had in high school, he may as well just give up on learning what teamwork means in the real world.

Still.

“Hey, Yuuri! Want to come?”

Just because he’s fine with keeping it as purely _working relationships_ doesn’t always mean that his team members feel the same.

He looks up, pausing post-sling of his bag over his back. He gives a cautious smile at the friendly grin Trevor, their team leader (though he would refuse this title if asked, turning it back to Yuuri), sends his way. “To what?” he asks, shifting his bag over his back until both straps are around his shoulders.

There’s a _thunk_ of books being stacked together on the desk before Debra, his more reserved teammate, answers for him. “We’re having our Friday night out, per the usual. Coincidentally, there’s a house party at Ryan’s place- that’s a friend of ours- and he’s inviting us plus some others.” She casually slips the books into her shoulder bag, somehow managing to make them fit despite their thickness as she shrugs, looking quietly expectant of his answer being in the negative. “It’s fine if you can’t make it, though. We know you’re busy with studying and practice.”

He struggles to stifle an annoyed sound at their expectations of him. Mostly Debra’s, but still. He knows that he’s not particularly sociable, but that doesn’t mean that he _likes_ it when people assume things of him.

“I think I can come,” he offers casually, giving a shrug at the excited and surprised looks on both his teammate’s faces. “My coach gave me a free day, and I don’t mind going to parties.” In truth, he’d rather spend his time playing video games and re-watching videos of Viktor’s skating for past exhibition galas, but they don’t need to know that.

“You don’t mind getting drunk?” Debra asks wryly, giving him a cautious look. “You don’t look the type.”

“I don’t look like any type but Asian,” he replies, tone as dry as the Sahara desert as he gives her a blank look. She seems to notice his annoyance, going by the way she cringes and raises both of her hands in apology. “I can handle alcohol just fine, in moderation,” he adds.

“How about outside of moderation?” Trevor asks, a curious look on his face.

Yuuri coughs, covering his mouth to hide the horrible expression he’s probably wearing at the reminder of how bad he can be when drunk. He hadn’t known back when he was in high school, but repeated occurrences of waking up half-naked and wearing drawings imitating a face on his stomach when invited to drink at home inevitably left an impression.  Weakly, he answers, “I’d…rather not.”

“You’re a weak drunk?” Debra offers. “That’s fine. Trevor can relate.”

“Hey!”

“A,” he begins, voice softening into a murmur as he goes on, “ _bad_ drunk sounds more fitting. I’d rather not cause any trouble.”

“But getting in trouble is a sure sign that you’re having fun!” Trevor insists, before quieting down when Yuuri shoots him an alarmed look while checking if any of the library staff heard them. “Please, it’ll be fine,” Trevor insists in a softer voice, donning puppy-dog eyes that, surprisingly, come close to Vicchan’s pleading ones. Yuuri’s heart trembles in his ribcage. “We’ll be there to look out for you, so you shouldn’t worry. Debra is _really_ great at holding her liquor.”

“Please, I don’t want to take care of either of you,” Debra grumbles, nose wrinkling at the very suggestion. Her eyebrows furrow further at the pleading look Trevor redirects her way. “Dude, _no_. I’m not your babysitter.”

“I’ll only drink a little, but it’d be sad if Yuuri didn’t get to have fun this one time he comes with us,” Trevor almost-whines at her. Yuuri looks to the both of them in bewilderment, not understanding Trevor’s dedication to him getting wasted. It wasn’t _that_ interesting, in his opinion.

“ _Dude_. Just because you want to get into his-”

“ _Dude,_ ” Trevor hisses back, kicking her gently in the foot. Debra wrinkles her nose and purses her lips at him, before sighing and shaking her head.

“Whatever, I don’t care,” Debra says with a shrug, giving her shoulder bag a pat. “I’ll try to look after you, but I’m expending minimal effort because you’re not worth it.”

Yuuri, bemused at their half-bitten words, blinks at her. Trevor huffs to himself with his arms crossed over his chest, blowing at the brown locks of hair falling in his face.

“ _Fine_.”

 

* * *

  

It is _not fine_ , going by the beautiful chaos ever-trailing after a drunken Yuuri Katsuki.

“Did you _know_ that he was going to be this kind of bad drunk?” Trevor hisses loudly at Debra, who’s busy capturing a video of Yuuri breakdancing on the floor with his impromptu competition using her phone. He looks like he’s having fun, going by the bright smile on his face as he does a little spin on the floor. Even more amazingly, the people that had once been just a mass of awkwardly swaying teenagers are now a unified audience to one dancing Yuuri, all of them some measure of awed as they either cheer him on or goad him into a dance battle.

“ _Hell_ no, but I’m definitely not regretting him coming along,” Debra says, a rare grin bright on her face as she laughs at the wink Yuuri throws their way.

“I thought he’d be a sleepy drunk or something,” Trevor says, oddly mournful as he watches Yuuri switch to a tango while pulling one of the girls in the audience to his side. The girl is, predictably, gleeful at being in Yuuri’s embrace as he pulls her along into the dance. Debra only snickers under her breath, giving him a consoling pat on the back before going back to recording through her phone.

Still. For all that Trevor is a little jealous that other people have caught Yuuri’s attention enough to warrant getting a dance with him, he’s…

He’s glad, that Yuuri is enjoying himself. He knows he’s still nowhere close to finding his space in Yuuri’s life, and Yuuri probably sees him as a mere classmate, but. He’s glad that he could have witnessed this at all, Yuuri being freely happy, and that he could have somehow helped in making it happen by taking him along to the party.

“You’re not going to save him from the crowd?”

He jolts into awareness at Debra’s words. He looks at her and sees that she’s already pocketed her phone, probably already satisfied with what videos she’s gotten. “What?” he asks, confused at the sudden question. She then gestures to Yuuri, who’s moved on to another guy and dancing- oh _god_ , what kind of dancing is that? He’s swaying, slow and sure, back curved to fit against the chest of whoever that stranger is, and it would have been fine if it was just _that_.

But the sensuality to it, the way that Yuuri’s face looks almost blissed-out and simultaneously dazed as he’s spun to face the stranger, their chests pressed close together-

“It’s salsa, if you haven’t figured it out yet,” Debra answers for him. “I always get confused on those dances.”

“I- that doesn’t _matte_ r,” he sputters, staring wide-eyed at the vision of Yuuri so close in such an intimate way with this platinum-haired and pale-skinned stranger. Had it been anyone else, had it been any one of his friends who shamelessly enjoyed grinding against strangers, he wouldn’t have minded as much. But this is _Yuuri_ , and while Trevor can’t say he knows him perfectly well, he _knows_ that he isn’t generally like this when sober. “Does he even know what he’s doing? How _drunk_ is he?”

Debra drawls, “I’m assuming that he’s as sober as I am straight, which I am 200% not, and will probably be needing our help to get him home later.”

“He’s being groped by that creep!” he cries, turning his incredulous gaze from Yuuri to Debra. He sure hopes his expression accurately screams, ‘ _Why the hell aren’t we out there getting him?_ ’

“He doesn’t look particularly bothered,” Debra says dryly, giving him a look. “But I understand that you’re jealous. You could go and be his knight in shining armor, if that’s what you want- I’m certainly not stopping you.”

“It’s not- it doesn’t matter _who_ gets him,” he says, getting antsy as he looks from her to Yuuri, who’s moved on to press their foreheads together like they’re _this_ close to sharing a kiss. He pulls her along until they’re actually forcing their way into the crowd; Debra groans her annoyance but doesn’t pull away, because she’s still a good friend for all that she is a lazy-ass.

_Damn it_ , Trevor thinks while eyeing the guy who’s blatantly trailing his hands down Yuuri’s hips, _I_ _wouldn’t even want to try anything with Yuuri in this state_. It would have been one thing if Yuuri was just tipsy and still coherent enough to understand that he’s being hit on, but to see him s0 out of it that he’s forgotten his usual reservation entirely-

Won’t Yuuri regret this in the morning, if it moved any further than it already has?

“Oh!”

Trevor freezes, blinking when Yuuri sees them and throws them both a cheery, if not sloppy, wave. “Um, hey!” Trevor says lamely, forcing a grin as he dodges left and right around the crowd to get closer to where Yuuri is. “You’re done dancing?”

“Mm, not yet,” Yuuri hums, before moving to pry away the hands on his hips. The stranger makes an annoyed sound at that, and Yuuri looks up at him in a squint. “You’re not,” Yuuri begins, nose wrinkling in such a cute way that Trevor’s heart skips a beat, “you’re not Viktoru.”

“The name’s Jason,” Platinum-hair says, smile amused as he reaches up with a hand to caress Yuuri’s face. “But I can be whoever you want me to be, babe.”

Yuuri snorts, before swatting away the hand on his face. Debra, Trevor catches from the corner of his eye, is discreetly starting another recording from his side. He’s not entirely sure it’s a good idea to record this, given the less than sober state of the people in the video, but he’ll just have to ask her to delete it later. For now, Yuuri is the priority.

“Why not get a drink of water first, yeah?” he asks, smiling at Yuuri as he offers a hand to him.

“Hey, why not leave us alone? He said that he wants to keep dancing,” Jason a.k.a. Asshole interrupts, smoothly slipping a hand around Yuuri’s waist as though trying to stake a claim.

Trevor makes to argue, mouth already opening to give his reply, until he shuts up when Yuuri makes a dissatisfied noise at the hand on his body. He steps out of Asshole’s hold easily, before dusting off his hip like the hand that had been on it was something disgusting.

And yet, the Asshole seems to not have understood the unspoken dismissal of his flirting. “What, already done?” Asshole teases, stepping further into Yuuri’s space. “We could go rest elsewhere, sweetheart. I could get you another drink.”

Yuuri blinks up at him, seeming bemused. Then, so casually that Trevor almost misses the meaning of his words, he says,

“Why would I want a drink from you?”

Trevor literally puts a hand to his chest, his heart almost stopping at the casual but brutal dismissal of the Asshole’s offer. Debra is practically vibrating by his side- he doesn’t even need to look as he can just _feel_ it- with stifled laughter, and Trevor completely understands how she feels.

“You’re breaking my heart here,” Asshole continues, apparently stubborn as he takes another step into Yuuri’s space.

Yuuri, looking more and more tired of having to deal with Asshole’s pushiness, makes a face at him. He puts a hand to Asshole’s chest, pushing him away, before saying, “You’re too close.”

“I could get closer,” Asshole suggests with an eyebrow wiggle. Trevor almost wants to interrupt just to get things over with, but Yuuri has been handling it well so far. He’d hate to butt in when he’s doing so _great_ at coolly rejecting the guy’s advances.

(If he gets any satisfaction from seeing the guy be rejected so thoroughly, well. That’s no one’s business.)

“You’re being annoying,” Yuuri says honestly, brows furrowed as he squints at the Asshole.

“What, so you finish one dance with me and then you’re done? S’that it?” Asshole says, one eyebrow raised. “You get bored that easily?”

Yuuri shrugs, seeming to have no problem with this. “I thought you looked like Viktor,” he says, as though that explains everything. Then he yawns, leaning back enough that Trevor has to hold him up before he can fall completely. He looks up, sleepy-soft and impossibly beautiful through the flush on his cheeks and the sweat dripping down his temples. His voice is almost too-quiet when he mumbles, “’m tired now. I wanna go back.”

“Sure, we’ll take you back to the dorms,” Trevor assures him, before giving a quick glare in Asshole’s direction. The Asshole, thankfully enough, recognizes _this_ rejection for what it is and backs down.

“I’m not in the mood for difficult lays,” Asshole says, wearing a sly grin, before giving them a little wave and walking off. Trevor would _really_ like to give him a piece of his mind, maybe kick his ass a little for being such a pushy douche, but Debra stops him before he can try anything.

“Already let Ryan know,” she tells him, one hand to his chest to keep him still with the other waving a little to gesture at the phone in her hold. “The guy is a friend of a friend- Ryan said he’d keep an eye on him if he tries anything weird.”

“Well, good,” Trevor says, still feeling a little huffy as he heaves Yuuri’s arm up and over his shoulders. He turns to Yuuri, tries really hard not to look besotted at the sleepy look on his face, and says, “You doing okay there buddy? Want me to carry you?”

“No, no,” Yuuri insists, stubborn as ever as he shifts in Trevor’s hold to stand up a little straighter. “This is fine. I can walk.”                                                                                                                                                              

“Well, alright,” he concedes. He looks to Debra, who nods, and they carefully make their way out of the crowd to head for Debra’s car. Yuuri is the first to get in, being helped by Trevor up into the back of her Jeep until he can lie flat on the seats, with Trevor following after to ride shotgun. Debra, being the one who’s least drunk, takes up the driver’s seat.

It’s quiet, for a while.

Then,

“Who’s Viktor?” he asks Yuuri, ignoring the side-eye that Debra throws at him. “S’he your boyfriend?”

Yuuri practically chokes out a weak laugh. “I _wish_ ,” he mumbles, soft enough that Trevor almost misses it.

Keyword being: _almost_.

Yuuri goes on to add, impassioned even through his drowsiness, “He’s the _best_ and most _beautiful_ figure skater I have ever seen. He always surprises me at every turn, and I never get tired of watching him perform. He’s just so,” he trails off, waving his hands wildly as though trying to encompass the world in his palms, “ _ugh. Amazing._ ”

“You must like him a lot, I’m guessing,” Trevor says, lopsided smile slipping onto his face as he keeps his gaze out front.

Yuuri doesn’t answer.

Trevor hadn’t expected him to, going by how exhausted he is.

It’s quiet once more, only the rush of wind and the crinkling of leaves being heard as they drive down the road back to the dorms. It’s peaceful, even with the heavy feeling starting to make a home in the pit of Trevor’s stomach.

It’s quiet, until,

 

 

“I do.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I googled Viktor Nikiforov after you mentioned him last night.”

Yuuri almost chokes on his lunch at the non sequitur, but he manages to save face by swallowing before he can cough anything out. There’s a _reason_ that he prefers to eat alone or with Phichit during lunch, but he sadly had no choice given the looming deadline for their group project. Weakly, and hoping for the best, he asks, “And?”

“He really is a great skater,” Trevor says, smile tight around the edges. The fact that Yuuri noticed that at all, even when he doesn’t know Trevor all that well, has him concerned. He looks to Debra for some sort of explanation, thinking that since they’re friends she’ll know, but she only shrugs while continuing to eat.

Yuuri bites in the inside of his lip. Much as he’d like to set down his spoon and fork to try and ask if he’s okay, he has a feeling that there’s a reason that Trevor isn’t coming right out with his problem. Trying to act casual, he sticks his fork into one of the broccolis in his lunchbox and says, “Of course he is.” There’s a soft smile on his face as he pushes some of the vegetables around with his fork, stalling on his eating somewhat as he tries to put words together in his head. With a quiet pride swelling in his chest at the thought of Viktor, he adds, “He’s the best. He’s…well, my idol.”

“Since you’re a figure skater too,” Trevor says, looking down at his food as though distracted, “does that mean you’re looking to beat him?”

Yuuri’s lip quirks at the notion. “One can hope,” he says, before eating one small piece of broccoli in one bite. He’s quiet for a moment, considering whether or not he should be more honest with Trevor and Debra on how he feels, until he finds his resolve and looks up at them both with what he hopes isn’t too vulnerable a look. “But mostly, I’d like to skate on the same ice as him.” More softly, he murmurs, “Be his equal, in a way.”

Debra blinks. Trevor is quiet, gaze set on his food as he seems to consider something.

Then, he looks up at him and smiles, and Yuuri’s chest eases from its initial discomfort.

 

“I’m sure you’ll make it happen, Yuuri. You’re you, after all.”


	3. dance class edition

“I’m not sure I can do this.”

“You sure do talk a lot of shit, Yuuri.”

Yuuri pulls a face at Lani’s words. Lani shrugs, because she’s only saying the truth. In the months she's practiced with him, he managed to catch up to their beginner lessons in one week (or possibly less) versus her own one month of figuring things out. She can’t say that she knows him all that well, given how reserved he usually is, but she knows one thing:

He’s determined as all hell, and terrible at accepting the concept of being bad at something.

She says, “C’mon, you know I’m not gonna pretend that I’m any better at this than you are.”

“You don’t have to put yourself down like that—“

“The same way you aren’t?”

Yuuri winces. She smirks at managing to catch him out on his self-imposed standards. Still, he says, “That’s different. I know that I can do better, but my confidence is lacking. Your confidence, on the other hand…”

She laughs. It’s true; what she lacks for in talent, she’s generally able to bullshit with her confidence. Now if _only_ she could transfer a little bit of that confidence to Yuuri as well, because god knows he’s skilled enough to warrant a similar level of confidence as her. She offers, “Well then, why not try getting a drink in you to loosen up?”

Yuuri blinks at her. “What?”

“You heard me, Yuuri,” she says, before moving aside to reveal the short line-up of shot glasses on the desk behind her. She’d ordered them all before their performance and had one of the waiters serve them backstage while Yuuri was busy changing; if not to help Yuuri relax a bit, then to give her a sense of the mood she’s trying to go for while performing on-stage.

Understandably, he’s a lot surprised at the appearance of the alcoholic drinks. He begins to ask, “Where did those—“

“I figured you’d need a confidence boost and alcohol can be pretty helpful,” she answers swiftly, before grinning when he gives her a wide-eyed incredulous stare. “What? I like to be prepared! If you didn’t want to drink them, I’d have drunk them myself.”

“This is _not_ a good idea,” he murmurs with a frown, all while giving the shot glasses a hesitantly considering look.

She snickers when she notices him actually mulling it over. For all that he’s seemingly strait-laced when you first see him, he’s a lot more lax at following certain rules— especially when it could be something that he _knows_ will be beneficial for him.

He’s always a surprise, that way.

(It’s really unfortunate, when you think about it, how he manages to never notice how liked and loved he is.)

“Just take enough to loosen yourself up, but not enough to get you drunk as fuck,” she says reasonably. She gestures to the glasses with a dramatic twist and inward slide of her hand, smiling kindly even with all the deviousness that she knows must be gleaming in her eyes.

Yuuri hesitates still, but he takes a step forward to the table. He asks, voice small, “What if I mess up our performance?”

“I’ll carry the rest of the performance,” she assures him.

Yuuri’s nose wrinkles at the very suggestion, eyebrows furrowing together in an obvious show of his displeasure at the idea. “Or, you know,” she adds, shrugging, “you could pull it off so well that I won’t even need to do any of that. You don’t even _need_ to drink anything—”

“Just a few,” he says, looking more determined than ever.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re sure?”

He looks at her, gaze hard and mouth lip-gloss pink, and she starts to consider the 95-percent of herself identifying as gay.

“I’m _sure._ ”

 

* * *

 

“What did you _do_ to him?”

“Gave him a couple of drinks?” Lani says, not at all guilty as she turns back to the stage to give a cheer at the full-split Yuuri does while holding onto the pole. “You’re so hot!” she yells enthusiastically. He responds by swinging around the pole until he’s facing her, then blowing her a kiss that gets him some pleased shrieks from the audience.

“Well, it’s _definitely_ working for him,” Rose says, sitting to her right and giving a high whistle that earns her a wink from Yuuri. Rose laughs. “Oh my god. Does he even _know_ what he’s doing? He’s never this confident when he’s in class.”

“Not confident, but still better than some of us,” Claire says to her left, before chugging down a shot of whatever it is she’s drinking. She sighs, though she looks fonder than anything else as she looks up at the stage. “I can’t even feel bitter because he’s just so— _all of that_. Everything.”

“I _know_ right?” Ashley says from across the round table, eagerly jumping into the conversation. Lani has no idea how she managed to pick her jaw back up after seeing Yuuri pole dance his way into a couple of straight guys’ hearts, but she commends her for it. It takes a lot of self-control to be able to remain coherent after witnessing the magic that is Yuuri going into his Sexy Mode, after all. Ashley adds, “He’s so serious a lot of the time, and at first I thought he was snobby, but he’s really just bad at talking to people, isn’t he?”

“Bet you were glad we accepted him into the class, huh,” Lani says, barely holding in a snort of laughter when Ashley makes a whimper of a sound. “ _God_. I remember how some of us were kinda uncomfortable with having a guy in class.”

“He’s never even looked at us in any way that isn’t professional,” Claire says sulkily, slumping further forward onto the table as she chugs down another drink. She eyes Yuuri folding back on himself with one leg around the pole, showing off his flexibility that gets him scattered hoots from all around. She pouts. “I _wish_ he’d look at me the way he looks at that figure skating idol of his.”

“Keep dreaming, sweetheart,” Rose says. They all laugh, before sharing a longing sigh with each other. Even Lani shares a sigh with them; for all that she’s not-straight, that doesn’t mean she can’t appreciate what a catch Yuuri is.

“He’s so sweet too, once you get to know him,” Ashley says with another drawn-out sigh, resting her chin on her hand as she looks up at Yuuri doing his final spin on the pole. “And when he tells you that your form is great? He never even _sounds_ creepy about it. It’s just a plain compliment to him, from one pole dancer to another.”

“I don’t think he knows how to be anything but sincere,” Lani says, which gets her a round of agreements from everyone else. “He’s cute too, which helps.”

“It’s not helping _me_ ,” Claire groans, finally giving in and fully slumping onto the table until she’s resting her head flatly on it. “Why can’t he just be ugly? This way there are no regrets.”

“The world is a cruel place, my dear,” Rose says solemnly, before giving a smile and a tiny wave with the others when Yuuri sends a wave their way.

“Oh,” Lani begins, smile wry as she begins to see the fidgeting dance of people in their vicinity who have slips of paper in their hands,

“it definitely is.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri, for all that he’s lacking in confidence, is never short on determination or self-awareness. He knows that people think otherwise, especially given how they like to argue with him when he talks about how he still has room for improvement on his skating.

People just don’t seem to realize that he has another, higher set of standards, because how else would an athlete of his caliber improve? By hoping for the best? Training with no goal in mind? Thinking highly of his achievements so far and never seeking any improvements on his technique?

He doesn’t work that way. He never has. Some people think he sees himself as unskilled, but it’s a misconception— how can he ever think of himself as being that bad, when he has to compete at an international level?

He wouldn’t survive, if that were so.

So when people think he’s oblivious as ever when he’s given multiple slips of paper containing numbers of strangers by his pole dancing peers, it grates on his nerves, a little bit. How can it not? His eyesight is bad but he’s not _that_ blind; he can see perfectly well that people are attracted to him, his body, or whatever else it was they saw in him while he was performing.

But he’s not interested. He doesn’t have the time for any of it, for all that some people like to consider romance or sex as an outlet for stress, and he’s anxious enough as it is just trying to work his way towards Viktor’s level.

And so, he lets them think he is oblivious. He’s a sincere person at heart, and he prefers to be truthful, but in matters that involve having to deal with other people’s emotions—

he’d just rather not.

“Are those phone numbers?” he asks, not even trying to put on a baffled front when the amount of paper on their table far surpasses his expectations. He’s already sweated out the alcohol in his system, which helps with his coherence. He adds, “Why are there so many?”

“They’re mostly for you, obviously,” Lani says, grinning as she shoves half of the pile at him. “ _Damn_ , Yuuri. You slayed out there! You even got the _manager_ to ask for a solo!”

“Don’t remind me,” he groans, hiding his face in his hands as he slumps over onto their table, out of the way of the pile of paper. “I was anxious enough before my first performance— when he asked for an encore because of the audience I wanted to just _leave_.”

“Good thing you didn’t, then,” Rose says, smiling as she nudges away the pile of paper from his side of the table. “What would you like to do with the numbers?”

“Those aren’t all for me,” he argues.

“Most of them are, darling,” Rose says, smile coming off as almost-apologetic as she completely sweeps away the strips of papers from the table. “Sorry to say. We’re all hot in our own way, but you’re just in a league of your own, as we like to remind you.”

“I’m not,” he stumbles over his words, feeling awkward with how intensely Ashley and Claire are observing him from the sides, “I don’t have the time for that kind of thing. I’m already so busy as it is.”

“Oh, we know,” Ashley says with a sigh, already resting her head on her folded arms out of exhaustion. “Chris likes to remind us periodically on how to look after you.”

Yuuri presses his lips together in a firm line, brows furrowing in annoyance at the idea of Christophe Giacometti having to check up on him as though he were a child. He’s already used to the polite concern of people— even strangers— from his hometown. He’d prefer to not have that kind of thing follow him even from out of the country. He begins to say, “I’m not a _kid_ —”

“Honey, if we thought you were a kid, we wouldn’t have let you join us in the club,” Rose says dryly.

“He’s just a friend looking out for another friend,” Claire says, giving him a small smile. He starts to smile back, though he thinks it comes off as a bit strained. “And given that he recommended his friend to try out a pole dancing class, and he knows that we practice at clubs, he wanted us to look out for you because he knows it’s not exactly your choice of scenery.”

“I guess,” he says, voice soft as he shifts in his seat.

“We’re friends, okay? We look out for each other,” Lani says, smiling at him. In previous weeks, she would have given him a pat on the back, but she’s since then been told that he doesn’t like the contact coming from people he doesn’t know all that well.

He smiles, more sincerely this time.

“Yeah,” he agrees, shoulders lowering in a perceptible way to signal his comfort with them.

“We’re friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKxElccv0d8) lol
> 
> This one is unbeta-ed and unchecked by friends so please let me know if you see any mistakes I can fix! If you have any suggestions, things you like about the fic, or anything else, please let me know in the comments! ♥♥
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, and happy holidays!


	4. finale

Some people say that drunkenness doesn't change you, as much as it brings out parts of you that don't often see the light of day. With inebriation comes the farewell of inhibitions, leaving people more susceptible to saying (and doing) things that they usually wouldn't, in part because of shame, and some because of anxiety.  
  
Viktor knows this, knows it well, even more so with his Yuuri in his arms.  
  
「がばいぬっかっ] Yuuri whines, oddly clingy and affectionate as he grips hard onto Viktor's dress shirt. It’s a testament to his strength that he manages to pop some buttons open with his one-handed grip, though it isn’t much of a surprise, given Yuuri’s lean physique.  
  
Viktor hums his amusement at Yuuri’s wrinkly-nosed expression. He places a hand on Yuuri's own, gently rubbing until his grasp on Viktor's shirt loosens. It doesn’t take much, Viktor notices, to get Yuuri’s eyes sparkling like starlight. All he has to do is slide his fingers between Yuuri’s, fitting just right, and it’s like all is right in the world- like Yuuri's hand has always been where his hand belonged, all this time.  
  
「寝よう?] Viktor asks, raising Yuuri's hand to press a kiss to his knuckles.  
  
「一緒?]   
  
Viktor traces circles over Yuuri's hand, smiling. [肌を合わせたい?]   
  
Yuuri laughs. His eyes are glazed over with drink, his hair messy after their work-out of a reception, and he is the most beautiful man Viktor has ever seen in his 29 years of life. That’s saying _something_ , given the places he’s been to, the people he’s met, during his time as a competitive skater. Yuuri is beyond conventional beauty, Viktor thinks; he’s stunning, adorable, and sexy all in one package, and he’s not even always _trying_.

(Viktor is naturally handsome, he knows, but he still has a routine he sticks to just so he can maintain his appearance. Yuuri doesn’t even use _lotion_.)  
  
[言葉が分かると?]  
  
Viktor raises an eyebrow in question at him. [もちろん。どうして? 間違うか。]  
  
"English is so funny," Yuuri answers, a non sequitur until he clarifies, "it's the same meaning as having sex, Viktoru."

“Ah,” he hums, nosing at Yuuri’s hair and pressing a kiss to his temple. Yuuri giggles, adorable as adorable can be, and Viktor breathes in. He has no idea how his skating, painfully lonely as it was before, could get him the love of his life- but he’s not complaining, not at all. He just…wonders, sometimes. The same way he’s sure Yuuri wonders on his fortune at having him, which makes them a perfect, fitting pair of confused lovers (now husbands).

“Sleep with me, then?” Yuuri says, words slurring on his tongue as he grins his drunken, pretty grin up at Viktor.

「はい、はい。」Viktor smiles, pulling Yuuri along until the back of his knees meet their king-sized bed, and they fall together.

Yuuri laughs out loud, letting himself fall into Viktor’s chest, and Viktor huffs a laugh at how he still manages to control himself enough to not crush him.  「私のきれいな勇利。」Viktor croons, smile growing brighter as Yuuri props his chin up on his chest.

“мой　красивый　Витя,” Yuuri manages to say, and Viktor-

Viktor’s heart suffers a little implosion, just a metaphorical bit. His smile is too wide, too bright, perhaps; yet Yuuri doesn’t seem to care, only grinning brightly back at him as he cocks his head to one side. Does Yuuri even know what he does to Viktor’s heart? His mind? His _soul?_

(It’s fitting, then, that Japanese could encompass that entirety of him in one word.)

「愛してるよ。」Viktor murmurs, staring with all the love he can hold at Yuuri’s flushed face. He continues, unsatisfied with using only one language, “I love you, more than words can ever describe, my Yuuri.” He’d apologize for not saying it earlier on, for making things so muddled until they got to where they are, but Yuuri seems to understand. His eyes have lost that dimness of inebriation, slivers of sobriety creeping into chocolate eyes as he looks back at Viktor with soft, soft, _soft_ affection.

Viktor can’t even remember feeling this loved, this much, and so unconditionally. Yakov had his conditions, for all that he cared about Viktor, and while Viktor loves him like family, it just doesn’t compare to the _depth_ of all that Yuuri means to him.

“Я тоже люблю тебя, Витенька,” Yuuri replies, eyes shiny with unshed tears, and Viktor leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead. Yuuri’s skin is warm, his body a wanted weight on Viktor’s own, and Viktor loves him so much, _so much_ , that words just aren’t enough.

「一緒に寝よう。」　Viktor says, moving them both up until they’re completely on the bed, Yuuri somehow managing to keep himself on top of him through all the movement. He tucks them both under the blankets, making sure not to jostle Yuuri too much as he keeps an arm around him. ？「良いの?」

「良いよ。」Yuuri agrees, smile sweet as he snuggles right into Viktor’s arms, unashamed as he usually would be in his sober state. He fits perfectly in Viktor’s arms, his head tucked under Viktor’s chin as he shifts half-way off of him to be more comfortable. He’s precious, like this: dozing off, breathing slow, his hands curled loosely on top of Viktor’s chest.

Viktor can’t help himself from a besotted smile.

“Rest well, мой любовь,” he murmurs, grazing a butterfly kiss over Yuuri’s exposed forehead. “Save up your strength, because it’ll be a while before we go back to Russia.”

“And after?” Yuuri sleepily asks, eyes closed when Viktor chances a look at him.

Viktor chuckles. “We’ll train all you want, my Yuuri. You’ll miss our honeymoon by then, because I’ll work you hard for that gold medal.”

“I’ll work _you_ hard,” Yuuri grumbles, and Viktor stifles a laugh so as to not shake him. 「一緒に頑張る、ヴィクトル。」

“Of course,” Viktor says, smiling softly as he closes his eyes.

“We’ll do our best, Yuuri. As we always have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translator's Notes (oh my god I'm sorry):  
> 「がばいぬっかっ] - I'm cold!  
> 「寝よう?] - Let's sleep?  
> 「一緒?] - Together?  
> [肌を合わせたい?] - (You) want to sleep together? (i.e. in a sexual sense, or to bring one's bodies together for warmth)  
> [言葉が分かると?] - Do you understand (those) words?  
> [もちろん。どうして? 間違うか。] - Of course. Why? (Am I) wrong?  
> 「はい、はい。」 - Yes, yes.  
> 「私のきれいな勇利。」 - My beautiful Yuuri.  
> “мой　красивый　Витя" - My beautiful Vitya.  
> 「愛してるよ。」 - I love you.  
> “Я тоже люблю тебя, Витенька" - I love you too, Vitenka.  
> 「一緒に寝よう。」- Let's sleep together.  
> 「良いの？」 - Okay?  
> 「良いよ。」 - Okay.  
> мой любовь - my love  
> 「一緒に頑張る、ヴィクトル。」- Let's work hard together, Viktor.

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S 5AM HAHAHAAH GOODBYE TO ALL THE FUCKS I COULD HAVE GIVEN
> 
> thank you so much for giving this a read! pls let me know in the comments if u liked it, or if u think i should fix anything! ♥♥ [And yes, the legal age for drinking is 20 in japan, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ it seems not everyone is particularly strict with that law? idk man, i dont live in japan lol]


End file.
